


Backwards

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-07
Updated: 2006-11-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser pays Ray a few very unexpected late-night visits, and Ray tries to figure out what the heck is going on.





	Backwards

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Backwards

## Backwards

  
by DeNile  


Disclaimer: Is anyone with the power to sue me actually reading this? If so, don't bother. I'm not making money; I'm losing it.

Author's Notes: I have to thank my two beta readers, Berty and LuciferoftheCircle, to whom I am eternally grateful. This would have had a lot more commas in it if it weren't for them. But I stand by my Oxford commas. They're my friends.

Story Notes: This is for Sam80853, just like I promised.

* * *

They'd told him Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP was unconventional. They'd warned him that he was an oddball, that things around him didn't always follow normal patterns, that Benton Fraser said one thing (let's follow the proper courses of justice), and did another (let's drive a burning car into a freakin' lake). They'd told Ray to expect the unexpected.  
  
They hadn't told him that Benton Fraser might be gay and might have a thing for skinny, blond, Polish detectives, and that he'd get his first clue when the man crawled into his bed in the middle of the dark night, sucked him to hardness, rolled a condom onto him, and then sat down on his dick.  
  
No, they sure as hell hadn't mentioned that.  
  
But then... things did have a tendency to go ass-backwards with Fraser around. At least when it came to the two of them.  
  
Normal partners, you meet, exchange grunts of hello or whatever, maybe mention family if you've got them to mention, maybe go grab a burger or something during lunch, but otherwise, pretty much start off as two strangers thrown together for ungodly reasons. You don't know each other, you don't care, and let's get the job done. Maybe if you've got a halfway friendly groove going after a few weeks, or months, you start to move in the direction of friends, invite your partner over for Saturday BBQ with the missus, if you've got one, or get together to watch hockey or baseball or whatever on days off. Maybe have a beer to unwind after the day's up. And then, after about four years or so, you find yourself introducing them as your friend before you introduce them as your partner, get to think of them in those terms. That's generally when things get tricky, `cause when your best-friend gets shot at, it's hard to keep a cool head, even under the best of conditions. There really was a reason why partners didn't become friends all that often and definitely not easily.  
  
Him and Fraser? Two whole seconds before he had his arms around the man, like they'd been best buddies since preschool. And even though that was technically his fault, it should have tipped him off from the get-go. Partners just didn't move that fast. It wasn't normal.  
  
`Course after a year and some partnered with the guy, Ray'd gotten pretty used to the swing of things. Nothing about Fraser was normal. Fucking him sure wasn't. Unconventional, yeah. Unexpected, hell yeah. He'd just been sleeping, minding his own damned business. Long day, really long day. He'd nearly gotten shot again, stupid-ass kid with a gun, at least she'd been a crappy shot. He'd dropped Fraser off at the Consulate, come back to his apartment, taken a long, long hot shower, and then passed out, barely under the sheets, bare-assed naked and still kinda wet and pruney. Dark, silent, _locked_ apartment. _That_ was normal.  
  
Next thing he knew, he was fucking his partner in the dark. Fraser was riding him like he was one of those twenty-five cent horse rides outside the supermarket. Ray couldn't see him, not really. Just a dim outline of the man rocking on him, head dipped down toward his chest, but he knew it was him. Big, wide hands on his chest. Heavy damned body astride him. Hot, tight ass around his dick. And the tiny sounds coming from his partner, little gasps and moans, tiny muttered _Ray's_. He knew it was Fraser.  
  
And there wasn't much he could do, really, other than go with it. That really was the rule when it came to Fraser, he'd figured that much out after a year and a half. If in doubt, just go with it. Fraser hadn't killed him yet. Taken him pretty damned close to the edge, but he always pulled him back just in time. He trusted Fraser with his life.  
  
He trusted him with his dick too.  
  
Good thing, considering where it was.  
  
And so Ray went with it. Put his hands up on Fraser's hips, bucked up into him, counter-pointing the rhythm Fraser had going, murmuring, then saying, then maybe yelling, _yeah, yeah, yeah. Fraser. So good. Fuck, yeah. Oh... Ben._  
  
Fraser went wild. Like suddenly, all that outside propriety just vanished, like a snake shedding its skin, and what was left was a desperately hungry animal. He'd heard somewhere that wild animals only attacked humans when they were starved, and that fit, right there, fit like he fit inside Fraser. His partner, his self-contained, polite, courteous partner was _starved_. And he didn't mind feeding him. Not one bit.  
  
Especially if he got a piece of the meal too.  
  
He wrapped his hand around Fraser's hungry, impolite dick and treated it to a five-star dinner, suit and tie, white linen napkins, hundred dollar wine, and even that wandering guy with the violin. He had Fraser coming like a fucking train, _all over him_. He got Benton Fraser's come on his chest, on his chin, on his mouth, probably in his hair. Crme de Fraser. Rare delicacy, that.  
  
But Fraser didn't stop moving, other than for a second's shiver and groan, he kept rocking, harder, faster, deeper, and then he was saying in a quiet, insistent voice, urging him, commanding, " _come, Ray, please, now, give it to me_ ". And it tweaked something in Ray, something that had been pushed to the back of his mind, something that was waking up with an appetite. Fraser _wanted_ him. And he _wanted_ Fraser _back_. He thrust up, groaning fit to bring down the house, neighbours would hate him in the morning, but _yeah_. Coming like it might be the last time he could, like it was all he had in the world.  
  
And afterwards, it was like Fraser had killed him, he could have sworn. He was weak and limp, like a sleeping kitten, boneless and slithery, couldn't even consider lifting his arm or his head, couldn't make his mouth work enough to ask what the hell had just happened, though, really, the answer was freakin' obvious. " _Why_ " was a better question.  
  
Fraser just sat for a moment, breathing, and then slowly unstraddled him. Took care of the condom, cleaned him up nice and thorough with a warm, damp cloth, tucked him up in the blankets, put his clothes back on, and then leaned down toward him, eyes reflecting the little light in the room, and Fraser whispered right into his ear, breath hot against his flushed skin, "Thank you, Ray."  
  
And that was it. That was _it_. He left the apartment and courteously locked the door behind him.  
  
And the next morning, he had bruises on his hips, finger scrapings down his ribs, the taste of Fraser on his lips, and one hell of a spinning head. That and the idea that maybe his partner was gay. And maybe his partner liked him _like that_. And maybe that was okay. Maybe that was more than okay.  
  
And maybe he'd invite Fraser over for pizza and see if tomato sauce tasted even better on his partner's tongue.  
  


\--- 

Except he was sitting across from Fraser in a diner now and it was like nothing unexpected had happened the night before. Like it had been someone else riding his dick and tucking him up cosily into his bed afterwards. Fraser was all starch and decorum, red tunic red, puffy pants puffy, and hat just so. Nothing about him suggested sex. Nothing about him suggested grunts and gasps and moans and _give it to me_.

Ray had been trying all day, trying to get _something_ out of him, some kind of clue that it hadn't been some bizarre dream, some hallucination brought on by near-death experiences and too hot showers.

His brightly wide smile that morning had met with a cautiously returned smile with a quizzical tilt to Fraser's head, like Ray'd said something strange. The arm around Fraser's red woollen shoulders had caused the man to freeze and lift his eyebrow questioningly. When Ray started, "I had this weird dream last night..." Fraser had just nodded encouragingly and kept typing out their reports.

By the end of the day he'd just about convinced himself that he'd gone nuts. That the bruises and the scratches had happened some other way, and that maybe the grilled cheese and pickle sandwich the day before had caused dreams of the weirdest and, Jesus, _hottest_ quality.

But then he woke up at 3:37 in the morning, with Fraser licking his way down his torso, sucking on his bottom rib, licking his way into his bellybutton, sucking a hickey into the hollow of his hip.

"Fraser," he groaned and arched, thrusting his hips up against empty air. He opened his eyes into the darkness, seeing mostly nothing but that outline again, washed in red from his digital clock readout.

"Shh," Fraser told him and swiped his big, wide, talented tongue around the crown of his cock. Fraser had done this before, wasn't new at this, Ray thought with his two remaining brain cells, but then Fraser swallowed him in one fell swoop and slipped a lubed finger up his ass, and his two remaining brain cells escaped in one embarrassingly fast stream, straight down his bestfriend's throat.

He groaned noisily, poor neighbours, but again, Fraser didn't stop. Licked him clean and kept up with the ass play, fucking him slow and sweet with that one finger, then two, stretching him while staring at him intensely, hitting the button.

And he arched back his head and moaned desperately, "Fuck me. Fraser. Please, Fraser. Fuck me."

And Fraser did, slid into him nice and homey, stretching him enough to make him take notice. Familiar pain, one he hadn't known since college and those stupid-assed idiot drunken fumblings. This was different. They were adults here, not drunk, not idiots, not stupid-asses. They weren't fumbling, that was for sure. Fraser knew what he was doing, smooth and right, just perfect friction, maddening rhythm, too slow, then _thrust_ , too slow, then _thrust_ , too slow, then _thrust_ , until he just wanted to scream, probably did scream. Neighbours were going to blacklist him. Who the fuck cared? Fraser... Fraser _knew_ this.

His friend, his partner, his... _lover_?... was making those noises again, those tiny little sounds, grunts and moans and whimpers, snorts into his ear as Fraser bent down to snuffle his neck, lick his sweat.. And his dick was waking up again, too fast, way too fast, this wasn't quite normal, unexpected, hell yeah. He wasn't twenty anymore. He moved, trying to keep those _thrusts_ going.

"Harder," he begged. "More. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. Ben! C'mon, _fuck me_!"

And Fraser _did_ , went wild again, a wild animal loosed, just beat into him like this was the end of the world, like this was his salvation. Every breath was a gasp of " _Ray, Ray, Ray_ ", his name over and over and over like a litany, like a prayer. Until Fraser groaned, out loud primal noise, and released into him, heat and fire and life, right there, into his center, and Ray exploded with him, knowing _he_ had done this to his friend, he had done this _with_ his friend. Jesus.

Fraser slid heavy and drained onto him, shaking, just for a moment, and he wrapped his arms around the man, holding as tight as his cooked-spaghetti arms could. He didn't want Fraser going anywhere, wanted him to stay _right there_ , but no, Fraser had other ideas. Slid up and away from his arms and his body like it was nothing. Tied off the condom and tossed it, cleaned him up with another warm, damp cloth then tucked him right back up. Leaned down and whispered, "Good night, Ray."

And left.

Ray lay in his warm, snug bed and stared up at his dark ceiling. His body was sated and sore in the best way possible, the scent of sex and Fraser invading his every sense, and his head was spinning, completely full of ` _what the fucks?_ '.

Something was hinky in Mountieville. That was for sure.

\--- 

He told Welsh he was out all day, updating witness reports and double-checking statements and the like. It was a catch-all, since he could pretty much do all that from the comfort of his living room if he really wanted to, but whatever. Welsh took it and let him go.

He went to the Consulate, bribed Turnbull to silence with the promise of a new feather duster, and snuck Dief out, who was thankfully out keeping Turnbull company that morning, with the promise of a ham on rye. Sitting on the front stoop of the local deli, he unwrapped the wax paper from around the sandwich, set it down on the pavement and got to work interviewing his first witness. The half-wolf.

"So, y'know Frase's been over to my place the past two nights, right?"

Dief swallowed a quarter of the sandwich and grinned at him, all lolling tongue and knowing look. Ray felt like a bit of an idiot, sitting there on the street, talking to a dog, but, hey, who else could he ask? Mr. Fuck-You-In-The-Dark-And-Leave or Mr. Everything's-All-Nice-And-Normal? One of them didn't leave time for talking, the other didn't leave space for it. So... conversations with the wolf.

"Alright. So you know _why_?"

Dief snorted, and Ray felt his face heat up. "That's _not_ what I meant. I know _that_ part. I'm up to speed there, alright. Jeeze. No, I mean, why sneak over? What's with the whole Mission Impossible routine?"

Tilting his head to one side, Dief whined then flicked his head, making his ears fly. He scratched his head with his hind foot and then barked, quick and sharp.

"Okay," he answered, mind on wolf to human translation as he watched Dief eat another bit of the sandwich. "He's not sure how I'll respond, something about your ears, not too sure about that one, and he's got trust issues. Did I get that right?"

Dief laughed at him then scratched his ear again and lifted a doggy eyebrow at him.

Ray laughed back. "Oh," and reached over to scratch the itch Dief had lurking behind his ear. The wolf just about melted into his hands, and then shook his head, ears flapping again, and licked his chin in thanks.

"Right," he wiped his chin with his sleeve. "Great. Glad to be of service. Now, back to the crazy idiot we both know and love? What the fuck's up with him? What's with the silent routine during the day? It's not like I'm not givin' him every sign that things are hunky-dory with me."

Dief whined again, tipping his head, and then gave what almost seemed like a shrug, and then whined again, closing off with a series of mournful barks. The wolf ate another sandwich triangle slowly and snuffled at his hand. Ray lifted his hand and carded it through the wolf's fur and sighed.

"Well, there's not a whole helluva lot I can do about _that_ , the stupid idiot. I mean, other than just _tell him_ , straight out, which..." He paused.

Dief ate the last piece of sandwich and barked, thumping his tail for good measure.

"Yeah," he answered, shaking his head. "That's the answer. Just fucking _tell him_ , huh? Jeeze, some genius I am." He ruffled Dief's fur. "Thanks, buddy. Let's get back. I've got to talk Fraser into sleeping with me again. Think that'll be hard?"

Dief sneezed violently and sprayed him with bits of ham and rye.

\--- 

After making a stop at a kinky little store he'd found once back in the Stella days, they swung back to the Consulate, where he presented Turnbull with a brand new Ostrich feather duster (with blindfold). Turnbull, perfectly delighted, let him sneak back to Fraser's office without the usual page to the man first. Dief decided to stick around to keep an eye on Turnbull, _just in case_ , his tail whip and head tilt indicated, which was probably for the best.

Ray knocked, and at Fraser's " _come in_ ", did.

"Hey," he said and Fraser's head snapped up, eyes going wide. He looked... cornered. Cornered wild animals are dangerous, he reminded himself. Walk slowly. He closed the door behind him and leaned back against the wall, just inside the tiny room, and waited.

"Ray." His voice emerged hoarsely, and Fraser cleared his throat and tried again. "Why are you here?"

A little rude there, buddy, Ray thought with some glee.

"What? I can't come visit my bestest buddy? My partner? Gotta make an appointment to visit you? Cause, you know, I was getting the impression that we weren't waiting on invitation between us nowadays."

Fraser's face turned red and he reached a shaking hand up to tug at his collar. "I'm not sure... uh... to what you're referring."

"Sure ya are," he returned with a smile and moved further into the room, settling into the empty chair. He propped his feet up on the corner of the desk and smiled at his friend. "I'm talkin' about you and me. Me and you. Us. Us and this groove thing we got goin' on."

"Ah," eyebrow flick, and Fraser looked slightly green behind his hand, ashamed, dismayed and disbelieving. "Groove thing?"

"Yeah," Ray smiled again despite himself as he thought back to the night before, and the night before the night before. Sure, maybe it wasn't exactly kosher of Fraser to have leaped without looking, to have jumped without asking, but... He was sure his face got just a bit sappy. "Yeah. Groove thing. This great new vibe we got going. New dance."

"New... uh... dance?"

"The horizontal mambo."

Fraser's face flushed again and his hands fumbled on the desk for something to occupy themselves with, settling for an Inuit paperweight in the shape of a whale. "I, uh...Ray, I'm so very..."

Ray shook his head, waving his hand in the air. "Don't get into a tizzy, Frase. Believe me, I've got _no_ problem with this new dance of ours. I'm good with it."

"...Are you?"

" _Oh yeah_." He paused, then, "Well," he corrected as if suddenly remembering, and he saw Fraser freeze half-way through the act of relaxing. "I'm mostly good with it. Pretty much good with it. Really, only got one complaint. And, not really a _complaint_ , really, just a... a suggestion, I guess. If you're interested in takin' suggestions."

"I'm all ears, Ray," Fraser watched him carefully, looking like he was just barely balancing on the razor edge between hope and misery. Just one little push, that was all he needed.

"Well, it's just that..." Ray sighed, leaned right back in the chair, and put a hand on his thigh, biting back a grin when Fraser's eyes tracked it. "Fucking is great, Frase," he said and full-on grinned when his partner's head snapped up again. "Really great. Love it. You... well, you've got a corner on the market, there, buddy, let me tell you. Sheesh." He smiled. Fraser's face was matching his uniform. "But... how's about we try that kissing thing next time? `Cause I think that'd be just as fun too."

Fraser stared at him for the longest time, and then said, slowly, hesitantly, "The kissing thing?"

"Yeah. You, me, us, still with the sex, `cause, god, Fraser, you and sex... you and _me_ and sex... winning combo there. But I love kissing. Love it like you won't believe. And since I already love _you_ , you and kissing have _got_ to be another fantastic combo. You and _me_ and kissing, I mean." He paused and smiled again, big and wide and hopeful. "How's that sound, eh?"

" _Ray_..."

He grinned. The Mountie looked pleased. And dumbstruck. And hopeful. It was a good look. "And how `bout you consider sticking around afterwards, huh? Bed's more than big enough for two to sleep in straight through `til morning."

Fraser dropped the paperweight.

Ray smiled wider and dropped his feet to the floor with twin plops. He leaned forward slightly to collect the soapstone whale. "And just one more thing..." Ray continued as he set the whale upright and looked up to meet his friend's eyes. "Mind if we turn the light on tonight? `Cause I'd really like to be able to see you."

Fraser's face went from hopeful to _really_ hopeful, as if he wanted to believe, wanted to shout from the rooftops, but still held back. Crazy Mountie. "Oh, Ray, Ray, that would be..."

Ray didn't let him finish, was already up on his feet, around the desk, hands reaching out, and Fraser was pushing up into him, meeting him with one of those quiet little sounds, this one a happy moan of satisfaction. It was a good kiss, hungry and sweet and promising more. Fraser tasted like tea and toothpaste, and when they parted, Fraser licked his lips and said one word. Just one word, and that was enough.

"Ray."

\--- 

It was dark when he woke up sometime the next morning. He could hear the dull noise of cars outside the apartment, tires splashing up what must be rain from the road. He turned his head to peer at his clock and it read 3:26. Plenty of time left, he thought blearily, and curled back toward the warm body sharing the other half of his bed. Fraser made a sleepy noise and drew him closer, brushing his chin with a drowsy kiss before settling back against the pillow. Ray rested his head against Fraser's shoulder and breathed deeply, sighing comfortably.

It happened sometimes, that you woke up in a spot so comfortable, with your body so relaxed, that you never wanted to move ever again. This was that spot.

Fraser's hand slipped down his back to rest against the slight curve of his ass, and Ray cracked open his eyes, looking up to find Fraser gazing at him heatedly, intent clear in his midnight eyes. Ray felt his face stretching into a wide smile and saw Fraser's face do the same thing, a wide, pleased, yeah-this-is-real smile. Ray slid forward, abandoning the first perfect spot for something completely different but equally great, rubbing himself against Fraser's side, against skin warm from sleep and cuddling.

"So..." He said slowly, and kissed Fraser quickly, drawing back to watch as the man's face awoke with that disbelieving joy that Ray'd been seeing all night. "How's it going, Frase?"

Fraser's mouth pursed in contained amusement, and he replied in what could almost be called a drawl. "Very well, thank you. And you?"

Ray slid against him again, tucking one leg between Fraser's. He set his hand on Fraser's chest, resting it there for a moment before his fingers itched to trace over skin. His thumb traced muscles; his fingers caught at nipples and raised goosebumps. Fraser shivered, and Ray smiled and looked down at him, and, without breaking eye contact, he ran his hand down his friend's belly slowly, taking stock of flat stomachs, indents of sensitive navels, and downy lines of hair, until his fingers curled around Fraser's attentive cock, which twitched earnestly at his touch. "Me?" Ray answered in an even tone, "Not bad. Not bad at all." He stroked slowly and tilted his head. "Pretty quiet night."

Fraser bit his lip and nodded sharply. "Yes, quiet. So it is." His eyes clouded and fought for focus.

"Mmmhmm. How's the mattress? Comfy?"

"Ahh..." Fraser's fingers clutched at his sides and his body shook, legs trembling against Ray's. "Yes, it is... ah... yes, uh... it's..."

He licked a long stripe across Fraser's collarbone and then up his neck, collecting salty sweat against his tongue, and remembered the taste of lake water in his mouth. He remembered Fraser bursting into the room, saving his skin. He remembered the press of lips against his own and the rush of Fraser-flavoured air filling his lungs, and Ray made a small sound of honest relief and settled his lips against Fraser's own. It took so little coaxing for his mouth to open for Ray, and Fraser's arms came around him, holding him tightly, fingers digging into his back muscles as they move smoothly together in a sweaty tangle. His tongue slid against Ray's and he made those little noises again, small grunts of happy in the back of his throat. Ray swallowed them like drowning and rose up a little to straddle his friend, letting their cocks get all nice and cozy and friendly together.

"There something you want to do tonight, Frase? Watch some TV? We could rent a movie."

"I..."

"I think I've got some cards somewhere. We could bring them out, play some poker."

"Ray..."

"Or we could go for a nice long jog. Get the blood pumping."

Fraser growled loudly and swung them up and over, pushing his body down against Ray's, who lay back against the mattress, startled and momentarily disoriented.

"Ray," he warned tightly, "kindly shut up."

Ray grinned and wrapped his arms around the man. "Make me," he challenged, daringly, knowing full well that Fraser _could_. He gasped quietly and swallowed his tongue as Fraser slid down his body with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Shortly after Ray came and lay panting in a sweaty heap, with Fraser panting against his neck, his arms about Ray's body, Ray thought back over the last few days and came to a conclusion. Risking his life in truly bizarre ways, especially if it meant putting himself in front of a moving bullet, really scored points with Fraser. Got him from weirdo stranger-impostor to friend in one day and it got him from best-friend to bed-friend in two. One more time and they'd be married, Ray thought to himself with a smile.

Unconventional? Maybe. Unexpected? Probably. Totally backward way of doing it? Sure. But it was them, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

END

  
 

* * *

End Backwards by DeNile 

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